


Can't Argue with Perfection

by Eternallydeancas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cas is a cutie, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Roommates, birthday fic, dean is a dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 00:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3630444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternallydeancas/pseuds/Eternallydeancas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas turns 21!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Argue with Perfection

Castiel’s eyes scan the crowded bar for his roommate. Dean disappeared nearly fifteen minutes before, with the promise of shots sprinkled across his tight-lipped grin. And, of course, Castiel found himself waiting, barely able to mask his anticipation in front of their friends. He fears he’s being obvious, that each turn of his head holds a number count that only _they_ would make fun of him for, but his phone lights up in notification before he can truly care.

            **Green-Eyed Wonder: Come outside.**

Castiel grins at the nickname, remembering when Dean had changed all of his contacts to sarcastic physical descriptions, and clicks his phone off. Scooting out of the booth, he’s met with disappointed groans as everyone calls him a ‘party pooper’ for leaving his own party.

“Only losers ditch their twenty-first,” Jo grouses over the untouched cupcake they’d presented Castiel with at the beginning of the evening. Gabriel snorts, nodding in agreement, but catches Castiel’s eye at the last second. A single wink is all he gets but it’s enough to color his cheeks. With a last look at the now-used candle at the center of the small cake, he takes a deep breath and heads for the door.

Outside, the heat and salt of the air wrap around him in a welcoming embrace. The street is quiet. It is nearly two in the morning – technically no longer his birthday – and the boardwalk is miraculously void of obnoxious partiers. He would have taken the time to appreciate it more, had he not been so focused on finding a particular Dean Winchester.

Soon, he finds him around the side of the building, leaning against the railing of the veranda. Dean’s arms cross at his wrists, his elbows supporting his body against the concrete, and Castiel wonders how _leaning_ could be both beautiful _and_ sexy on the man.

 “Have you seen any Green-Eyed Wonders lately?” Castiel asks to Dean’s turned back. The blonde whirls around, tearing his gaze from the crashing waves behind him, and fixes Castiel with an amused stare.

“I dunno, got any mirrors on you?”

“In the words of my brother, why carry a mirror when in the constant presence of perfection?” Castiel quips back, gesturing widely to himself. He’s not sure what has him speaking so daringly – he’s usually far more reserved – but he suspects it has something to do with the margarita Gabriel had foisted upon him at dinner. Still, Dean laughs and Castiel would drink a thousand more margaritas if it meant hearing that sound even one more time. _Fuck_ does he have it bad.

  “Can’t argue with perfection,” Dean winks and pats the concrete beside him in invitation.

  Castiel walks slowly, his blood thick and rich in his veins, and savors the feel of _now_. Now, everything is the same and everything is different. Now is Florida and birthdays and summer vacations. Now is the way Dean’s skin looks under the moon, both shimmery and tanned from their time spent outside.

Inside, an upbeat Latin song is layered over something from the Top 40 and Castiel laughs at the absurdity of his thoughts having such a nonchalant backdrop.

  “Something you want to share with the class, Cas?” Dean tilts his head to where Castiel has pulled himself to sit and waits for an explanation. Unfortunately, Castiel has nothing to give in that department, for explaining means telling Dean and telling Dean means the end to now. He’s too busy savoring.

  “Hmmm,” is his hummed response, neutral and unrevealing.

“Well, if you don’t have anything,” Dean smiles and Castiel’s lungs forget how to process oxygen. “I have something _I_ wanna share.”

 And, like water, Castiel’s savoring evaporates at the thought of what Dean might want to share with him. Perhaps he’s decided to get back together with Lisa. Or maybe he got that waiter’s number, from the hotel’s restaurant. Gabriel kept _insisting_ they get it, that it’d be a crime against humanity if they left without “the seven digits to heaven.”

 “I like you, Cas.” Oh.

“I like you too, Dean.” That was easy. And far less painful than he thought it would be.

“No, man,” Dean chuckles but it’s not the ‘I’m-amused-at-what-you’re-saying’ chuckle. “I’m saying I _like_ you.”

Castiel’s heart grows warm at the admission. “And I’m saying I _like_ you, too.”

To his surprise, however, Dean groans, frustrated and throws his hands out to the side in the universal signal for “Why Don’t You Understand Me?!”

“Cas, I’m trying to tell you I want to kiss you and you’re being a little _too-you_ right now.” And Castiel gets it. Dean doesn’t realize what he’s saying. So he goes for the less practiced, less familiar response in his arsenal. He kisses him, pulls Dean’s face up to his own, and gives it his all. Abandoning every scenario of how he thought this might go, he focuses, again, on the now. Dean’s muffled _hmmf_ turns into a sweet moan of surprise and something sparks in Castiel’s brain, spurring him to kiss deeper.

This…this is _natural_. This is better than he’s ever imagined, even more so when Dean’s hands snake around his back and dance across the bit of skin that exposed itself to the night air. Goosebumps creep along his arms and legs and if he thought his lungs didn’t work _before_ , they certainly knew nothing in terms of kissing a Winchester.

After eons of discovering one another’s mouths, they break apart, breathing hard and grinning as if they’d just won the lottery with their tongues.

“We should probably go back inside,” Dean murmurs as his eyes trace over the planes of Castiel’s face. He feels exposed here, an open book for the ocean of Dean’s gaze to wash away, but feeling exposed is better than a constant state of invisibility. Castiel hops off the edge of the rail and offers his hand for Dean to take.

“Come on,” he says with a straight face. “I have to show everyone what I got for my birthday.”

“Oh, you think that was for your birthday?” Dean hooks a thumb over his shoulder as they stroll back to the front of the bar, looking behind him in mock confusion. “I hate to break it to you, Cas, but the world doesn’t revolve around you. Your birthday was yesterday, dude.”

“What was that you said earlier? About not arguing with perfection?”

Dean lets go of his hand and stops walking. “You cheeky sonofabitch, using my own words against me.”

Castiel’s about to apologize, his usual reservations creeping back in, when Dean breaks out into another grin.

“That’s fucking hot.”

And damn if they don’t end the night there and then, choosing instead to run back to their motel, down the beach, for a night of perfection.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed :)


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